


The really bad, not particulary nice, utterly unpleasant morning

by Crowleysheiress



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguments, Breakfast, M/M, Making Up, Misunderstandings, Not literally, The Master is a cat, metaphorically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 06:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7349512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowleysheiress/pseuds/Crowleysheiress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They could have had lazy breakfast and slouching around in clubchairs. Instead they got arguments. Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The really bad, not particulary nice, utterly unpleasant morning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there. Uhm, I Kind of have a really complicated relationship with this fic, mostly because I personally think that it's not that magnificient. I have friend who really, really enjoyed it though, so you should probably just see how you like it yourself.  
> I'm not a native English Speaker by the way, so if you find any errors, please be so kind to point them out in a comment.  
> Enjoy!

„Master!“

Oh no. That enthusiastic inflection didn’t sound good at all.

„No“

Better stop the enthusiasm before the catastrophe could take its course.

„You don’t even know what I want to say!“

The Doctor stood in front of the armchair in which the Master was eating his breakfast, grinned at him with his gleeful toddler-grin and almost seemed to vibrate from excitement.  
For him it was a mystery how the Doctor always managed to agitate himself into this kind of euphoria.

„I do know exactly what you want to tell me.“ Said the Master unimpressed and focused his attention on the bowl of cornflakes in his lap. The Doctor was like that one annoying child, that everyone had had in their class atleast once and that just stopped bothering everyone as soon as it was consequently ignored. 

But when the Doctor suddenly kneeled on the armrest of his armchair and bent his upper body forward he also realized that the Doctor was like a puppy. He had absolutely no concept of personal space.

„Doctor?“

„Yes?“

Their faces were definitely too close to each other to stay calm.

„Get.Off!“

Unfortunately the Doctor was just as good when it came to ignoring people as he was and stubbornly kept his seat.

„Master?“

The Master closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Stay calm, Master, just stay calm.

„Yes?“

„Right now we are in the orbit of a stunningly beautiful planet, which I wuld love to explore with you.“

The Master put down his bowl, so he could theatrically cross his arms. Defiance just wasn’t the same without crossed arms.

„You know what happened on the last planet we visited, right?“

„Of course. We were chased, threatened, poisoned and once we had to walk the plank.“ Said the Doctor and and didn’t seemed to be bothered by that at all. 

„Doctor?“ asked the Master and started squirming away from under him. Which proved to be more complicated than he expected, with his arms still crossed.

„Yes?“ Asked the Doctor back innocently and propped up his arm, so the passage for the Master was blocked.

The Master groaned under his breath and uncrossed his arms so he could brace himself against the floor with one of them. Hanging half way between the armchair and the floor was definitely not a comfortable position.  
„What would every normal person conclude from these things?“

„That they should never leave the house again, probably. But we both now that I’m not quite normal, right? Your hand is nearly in your cornflakes, by the way.“

The Master glanced down and noticed that his hand was indeed dangerously close to the bowl. He pulled his hand up and now he was truly just hanging in the air with his upper body. Only the muscles in his stomach and back were keeping him from slamming onto the floor with the back of his head.

„You need help?“ asked the Doctor and finally, finally, got up from the armrest. The Master didn’t even bother to answer that. However, he must have looked rather pitiful how he was flailing his arms to steady himself and tried to find better hold with his feet, because the Doctor grabbed him at the front of his sweater and hoisted him back onto the armchair.

He already opened his mouth again, but the Master stifled him befre he could say anything.

„I don’t care how exactly you want to persuade me, you can forget it! I’m not coming with you, you can let yourself be hunted by anthropophaguses all on your own!“

He stood up and rushed out of the room before the Doctor could even think about stopping him.

„Master!“ he called and ran after him. He didn’t need more than a few seconds before he had caught up to him, apparently the Master hadn’t bothered to run once he was out oft he Doctor’s eyesight.

„Master… what happened?“ asked the Doctor and tugged at his sleeve.

The Master groaned and fought against the impulse to shake the Doctor off.

„Absolutely nothing happened! Doctor, there just are days to explore and days to eat breakfast in club chairs.“

Now he did pulled himself free and began to stalk back to his room. His cornflakes were probably soaked by now and he hated to eat them like that.

He twirled around to face the Doctor, who had trotted after him and hissed: „You’ve ruined my cornflakes!“

The Doctor stayed silent, he was used to both accusations and sudden, out-of-context, outbursts.

„Did something happened on the last planet?“ he asked concerned. The big, goofy, grin was slowly giving away to an expression of worry.

The Master sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Sometimes the Doctor’s persistency could be quite nice, when he was actually not feeling well it was a relief to know that he wouldn’t have to approach the Doctor on his own. But on days like these, when absolutely nothing was wrong and he just wanted to stay in and be lazy, his neverending concern was simply annoying.

„Doctor.“ He said and made his voice sound as threatning as possible, an art he had mastered over the time. „If you don’t knock it off immediatly you’re going to regret it.“  
He could almost feel how he grew angrier. It was as if all of his muscles, tendons and bones were being coated over with boiling, melting wax and as if his blood was slowly starting to seethe.

„Master“ whispered the Doctor and now there was just this deeply hurt, vulnerable expression on his face. „I just want to help…“

„Help?!“ spat the Master out. „You truly must have damaged your brain if you believe that this is the best moment to help me.“

He could very well remember being burned alive and decaying, being shot, poisened and infected with stomach-churning diseases, he remembered being cast out and betrayed by both friends and foes. 

And the drums. Good lord, the drums.

And he still knew very well how much he had craved some sort of help, of assistance, during his darkest hours and that nobody ever came. That the Doctor never came. 

The hot wax seemed to rise up and began to stream into his head, drowning his thoughts, numbing any rationality.  
The Master slowly loosened his hands, which had balled up into fists, and tried to gulp it down.

He was definitely no stranger to that feeling. It was what eventually resulted in bruises and cracked bones and what filled him with will and purpose and substance for just a moment, before spitting him out empty and exhausted.

He glanced over to the Doctor whose expression had changed from „standing depressed in the rain“ to „I’m the Time Lord Victorious!“

The Doctor began to retreat, to leave him room, like one would do when encountering a wild animal. They both knew very well that he could be dangerous and even though he wasn’t usually prone to violence against the Doctor it would be foolish to assume he wouldn’t snap at him.

Honestly, there were days in which the Master would help the Doctor to hide a body without a second thought and there were days in which he couldn’t even stand him breathing in his direction.

He darted one last look at the retreating Doctor and then he did ran, albeit in the direction of his room.

It was not like he actually wanted stuff like this to happen.

He did not want normal, avarage days like these to end in such charged arguments, after all he did not enjoy losing his control like that… it just sort of happened. Completely normal things provoked him, even though he should be happy about some oft hem, atleast rationally.

Would not every other person be happy or delighted if the Doctor would be so worried about them? Certainly. But for him it was just plainly upsetting. On the other hand there were days in which he wasn’t even slightly bothered by these things. Maybe he was just mentally stuck on the same level as a sociopathic 15 year old genius.

He exhaled irritated and kicked open the room of his door. Sometimes he confused himself and he hated to be confused. He let himself flop down on his back onto the bed and sighed deeply. However, this time it sounded more like a mixture between a groan and a growl than an gust of air.

He didn’t want normal days to end like this, really not. He knew that he sometimes acted as if he wanted it, but actually he really did not want it to happen. He most definitely liked to annoy and bother the Doctor, when he was currently working on something, but usually he didn’t do it to be malicious, but rather (and he hated to admit that) to gain attention.

He probably just was the intergalactic equivalent of a cat.

Anyway, he did not want to constantly have arguments with the Doctor. Atleast not by now. There had been times in which he would have given a lot to clash with the Doctor, simply to give vent to all his stupid feelings just for once.

The Master rolled over onto his stomach and buried his head in one of his pillows. The hot wax had retracted into his stomach and was clotting itself to a cold, hard, aching lump.

Maybe he should go to the Doctor and apologize. On the other hand, this whole thing was kind oft he Doctor’s fault, after all he had pressured him. 

The Master groaned into the pillow. He was confusing himself. Again.

At this moment there was a hesistant knock on his door. Speak of the devil.

The Doctor gently pushed the door ajar and poked his head through the gap. The Master couldn’t see him and yet he had an almost crystal clear mental picture of the image.

„Master?“ asked the Doctor quietly and slowly entered the room when he didn’t get an answer. „Are you feeling better?“

The Master showed no considerable reaction, except that he spread out his arms and legs and probably looked like a starfish. But that was alright, Starfish were fascinating creatures. Hordes of them could devour a whale’s carcass in days. Fascinating animals.

He heard the Doctor come closer and felt the mattress dip slightly as he sat down.

„Master…“ he began, but was immediatly cut off.

„Oh Doctor, can’t you just let me be miserable for a few minutes?“ sighed the Master and made himself sound as exasperated and exhausted as possible.

He couldn’t see him of course, but somehow he just knew how the Doctor was sitting there, with contracted eyebrows and a frown on his face, while he stuttered out a „No“, brought out of his concept.

„Master, I’m sorry if I irritated or annoyed you, that was really not my intention. But sometimes I worry about you and then I would like to know what’s going on.“

Sad but true, that was something he could relate to. He did not only confused himself sometimes, every once in a while he worried about himself. He was neither a complete idiot, nor entirely unaware of himself, he knew that he had issues. Big issues. Wanting-to-destroy-the-world-is-just-a-normal-Tuesday level issues.  
But on the other hand… the Doctor had those issues as well, `Oncoming Storm´ and all, so maybe that was why they seemed to fit together so well.

„Doctor?“ mumbled the Master and turned his head so he could look at the Doctor with one eye.

„You owe a new bowl of cornflakes.“

And that was it. This short sentence, uttered for once without any malice, was the closest thing the Doctor would get for and apology and at the same time the acknowledgement that the Master had accepted his.

One little sentence and everything was alright again.

The Doctor grinned wide and bubbled about different cornflake brands and kinds of milk, while the Master pushed himself up from his starfish position. He looked to unbelievably relieved and content, that the Master wasn’t sure how to react to that.

„Doctor?“ he finally asked, as he was talking about Cuban milk. From Cuba the star constallation by the way, not Cuba the planet or Cuba the country.

„Yeah?“ The Doctor asked back.

„This planet you wanted to drag me to, is there anything interesting?“

„Of course!“ the Doctor exclaimed and was deeply lost in his enthusiasm again. Oh dear, he was almost vibrating with excitement.

„It’s constantly raining there; nonstop!“

„Awesome“ murmured the Master and pressed his lips into a thin line.

„You didn’t let me finish.“scolded the Doctor with false accusation in his voice. „The rain has bathtub temperature and the whole planet is luminescent in blue and green! Isn’t that fantastic?“

It did not sound all too ghastly, he had to admit that.

„Let me guess, you want to go there right now?“

„Oh yes“ confirmed the Doctor agitated.

„All right“ said the Master, stood up from his bed and he and the Doctor walked out of his room.

„Just do me one favor, Doctor, okay?“

„Sure, what would that be?“

„Please put on only swimming trunks.“

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it.  
> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated.


End file.
